I have no idea what was so random, I was stuck on the word “totes.” What the hell does this mean? So I decided I would use my highly trained investigative journalist mind to unravel this mystery.

I googled it.

Totes, it seems, is shortened speak for the word “totally.” As in, the English language is being totes destroyed by the totes laziness of this totes embarrassing usage of the word totes.

This desperate need to shorten and clip words blows my mind. I cannot speak for anyone else, but I didn’t spend hours at St. James diagramming sentences just so that I could LOL and WTF at them later. Incidentally, how in the hell did LOL come to use anyway? I realize it is the shortened way to say “laugh out loud,” but back in my 7th grade note-writing days, we did that by writing “ha” which is actually shorter. What genius came up with LOL? And then took it a step further to ROFLMAO. Has anyone ever rolled on the floor laughing, or laughed their ass off? Couldn’t the same effect be achieved if you simply wrote, HA HA!

Now it appears WTF has been replaced by WTAF, which adds the word “actual” in it (which also makes my friend Lara irrationally ragey — also not a word but I like that one). But it appears that WTAF is just the modern version of “huh” which is also a letter shorter. Don’t even get me started on how www is the shortened version of world wide web, but when you SAY www, you are saying six additional syllables than if you had just gone ahead and said “world wide web.”

Anyway, I felt the need to get to the bottom of this totes ridiculous phenomenon. Turns out I am saying that wrong, too. Because it is not totes ridiculous. It’s totes ridic. It’s cray-cray. Ima say it prolly so cray-cray it for realz could turn my brain to mush. Which would be the exact opposite of totes adorbs. If that happened — FML. Obvi, I’m jelly of ppl who can avoid this sitch.

(somewhere there is someone who understood all that)

This makes me sad. It makes me so sad. I wonder if this is what Shakespeare would think if we plopped him down in front of an episode of any television show ever made. WHAT THE HELL ARE THESE PEOPLE SAYING? I want to say that this is just the evolution of like, grody to the max and gag me with a spoon, but NO. Because that was fun. And also, words. Full on words. “Gag me with a spoon” is extremely descriptive, you know EXACTLY what I am saying.

Naturally (natch?) I decided this matter needed immediate attention from my husband. It took a fairly long, somewhat slow conversation in order to explain to him what is happening here, what people are saying, how to understand it. The result? The next day, Jim sent me a text in the morning. “Are you awake?” “Yes,” I replied.

“I totes knew you were.”

And it has begun.

These words that are making us crazy, we’ve now spent so much time ripping on them, they are becoming part of our daily conversations. We’re officially cray-cray on the reggae (I have no idea what that means).

Case in point — dinner. There we were, sitting at family dinner (we have family values) and Jim and I were discussing something. I can officially say I have no idea what we were talking about. But the words “totes” and “ridic” were fluid. I def don’t know what was said. It’s possible he said he had to go to the libes (that one came from a friend of mine). We spoke of our besties and Christmas prezzies and the deets on what we had for breks.

Hank was watching us, slowing putting his food to his mouth (and missing half of it — for hell’s sake, he’s 10, when is he going to learn to eat without half the food falling onto his shirt?), watching us back and forth like the world’s slowest ping-pong match. He finally cleared his throat and said, “uh, why are you two talking like teenagers?”

I don’t know, kid. It’s like a virus. A ridic, awk, presh, gorg, cray-cray, and bee-tee-dubs adorbs virus. Whatevs. I need a vacay.

Not the kind of themes that made Ralphie and Schwartz and Flick groan and moan when they had to write them in school (“What I want for Christmas is a Red Ryder carbine-action, two hundred shot Range Model air rifle with a compass in the stock and this thing which tells time.”). But overall THEMES. I have a secret desire to have a theme for nearly everything I do.

Okay, it’s a problem.

Today, for example, is Wednesday. Wednesday is my day off. So naturally, this is Stay-At-Home-Mom Wednesday. Other days have their themes, as well. Some are specific, while others can be generalized to any day. Bears Day, of course. Boys Day (when I get to do whatever the hell I want, I have no junk). Zumba Monday. And there is Naked Saturday nothing specific for Saturday.

I am uncertain when my decision to start listing the days of my life in theme form started, but I cannot remember the last time I did not do it. I wonder if I am searching for direction, or if I am a secret organization freak, or you know… mentally ill. Like when I got all off kilter this morning when I had to get up, shower, and go to work. ON STAY-AT-HOME-MOM WEDNESDAY.

I think it may be possible that my unending themes — which are ultimately just lists — are why I am so blocked. Because I’ve made myself such a long list of themes to follow, I am overwhelmed. And constantly thinking about what I have to do tomorrow is making me struggle with what I have to do today.

Gah.

This project of mine to try to work my way through my writer’s block by writing whatever comes to mind is already starting to suck ass, and it is two days in. Maybe I should re-think my themes. I should work on the following themes:

Stop worrying — Life ain’t that hard.

Stop trying so hard — Life ain’t that hard.

Stop being such a downer — Life ain’t that hard.

Of course, I am going to work on these themes later.

Today is Stay-At-Home-Mom Wednesday. I have some sitting around to do.